It should have been Nicolas Creed in that chair. A father figure, mentor, and friend. Gideon still recalled Nicolas’s calloused hand pressing a pistol into his palm before they took the palace by force at the New Dawn. It was Nicolas who’d first believed in Gideon. Who’d taught Gideon how to believe in himself.
But Nicolas was dead. Yet another victim of Cressida Roseblood. Gideon had dug the man’s grave himself, right after digging his brother’s.
And the person sitting at the desk was his son, Noah.
The new Good Commander.
Noah wore his father’s black uniform, with a scarlet cloak pinned over one shoulder. He propped his elbows on the desktop and steepled his fingers while listening to the young woman already inside the room, standing before the desk, giving an account.
Even from behind, the Good Commander’s master of spies was easy to recognize. Her black hair was pulled up into a topknot. The bottom half of her head was shaved close to the scalp,drawing attention to her missing ear—taken from her by witches she’d been indentured to under the Sister Queens’ reign.
At the sight of Gideon stepping through the door, the Good Commander’s jaw tightened—a movement so slight, Gideon wondered if he’d imagined it.
Noah held up his hand, halting his spymaster’s words.
“Impeccable timing, Sharpe. Harrow was informing me of trouble on the Continent. And here you are: the source of it.” He nodded for the soldiers to bring Gideon forward.
With his hands shackled, Gideon let himself be nudged toward the Commander. When he stopped beside Harrow, her bright gold eyes locked on his. Not so long ago, Harrow had been Gideon’s informant, freely bringing him information to aid in his witch hunts.
Now Harrow reported to the Good Commander, who disseminated her intel as he saw fit. Gideon couldn’t blame her for the shift in loyalty. He’d failed her—failed all of them. Which was precisely why he needed to convince them to support his new plan. He had to fix what he’d broken.
“Start over, Harrow.” Noah looked Gideon up and down, as if inspecting every crease of his shirt and fleck of dirt on his pants. “I’ll deal with you in a minute, Sharpe.”
Glancing back to Gideon, Harrow said, “I have a contact who’s infiltrated the witch queen’s ranks.”
Gideon frowned, interrupting her. “To infiltrate Cressida’s ranks, this contact would have to be a witch.”
“That’s correct.”
“You’re sure she can be trusted?”
“That’s why we’re bringing in the sibyl,” said Noah. “To verify.” He nodded for Harrow to go on.
“My contact says Soren has given Cressida an army and will sail with her to lay siege to the New Republic in a matter of days.”
“I could have told you that if you’d simply waited for my report,” said Gideon.
Harrow cut him a look. “Soren has alsodoubledhis initial war chest because of his fiancée’s kidnapping.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Gideon. “There’s a way to circumvent this waranddestroy Cressida. But it requires keeping the Crimson Moth alive.”
Harrow narrowed her eyes, turning her full attention on him. “You’re compromised, Comrade.”
Gideon brushed this off. “Youaren’t thinking strategically. None of you are.” He looked around the room, which, other than the soldiers, contained a handful of Noah’s ministers. “If we kill the Moth, it will only enrage the prince. You think it’s bad now that he’s doubled his war chest? If his fiancée is dead, he’ll hold nothing back. You will make things worse.”
Harrow crossed her arms. But she was listening.
It wasn’t Harrow he needed to convince, though. It was the new Commander.
He turned toward Noah, who was staring Gideon down from behind his father’s desk, his eyes cold as glittering ice.
“Cressida believes she has a long-lost sibling. A missing Roseblood heir, who she can use to resurrect her sisters.”
Startled murmurs rippled around the room.
“Resurrection is a myth,” said Noah.
“You certain of that? Because we can’t afford to be wrong.”
